Act 3, Scene 6

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

Boyle

Yeah. I think that really, it's just about age and maturity. Of course there'll always be young artists who know zero about anything that's not in their own heads. Isn't that part of being young and full of yourself? Do you remember your high school art classes? Some kids were soooo intense! All those hormones and that energy and the feeling that absolutely everything that happened to you was of such critical importance – it all got poured into whatever was going on in art class. I remember listening as kids explained to the teacher how this little swirl of blue meant death, and that splotch of green meant hope, and of course the big thing in the middle was LOVE! Sometimes I wonder just how those teachers could be so patient and respectful; it was nearly all total crap, but very important to the kid who made it.

It's not until you start to look around, and admit to yourself that you might actually learn something from someone else, even if they are older – that's when you begin to think that history might not be poison after all.

Whiten (laughing)

Bingo! That's exactly right. And yes, I do remember hearing those oh-so-deep discussions in art class. Wow. Weren't those feelings overwhelming? I think I'm much happier now than I was at that age. That was tough ... for almost everyone, I suppose. Then again, there weren't too many female-artist role models for me when I began to dig my heals in as a woman artist, and that was tough too. Or exciting. Yes, it was exciting to think that maybe you were breaking new ground. You know, this is a bit of a digression, but I feel very proud of my own generation. The 60s, hippies, feminism, racial equality, sexual diversity – a lot of the tolerance that we take for granted today started with people of my generation. Anything I felt strongly about became fair territory for an artist ... even a woman artist! Imagine doing what I did in some of today's repressive societies in other parts of the world – strapping men into these contraptions that looked like torture apparatuses! Unbelievable, when I think of it now. We are so lucky to live in such a free country, and too often we take it all for granted. Imagine doing what you do in those countries! No way at all.

Structure #8 (casting process - detail 2 of 3) 
© Colette Whiten

ccca.concordia.ca 

Structure #7 (casting process) 

© Colette Whiten

ccca.concordia.ca 

Of course by the early seventies when I began to have some success, other women had already elbowed their way into what was then pretty much a boys' club. Helen Frankenthaler comes to mind, and she did it ten or twenty years before anyone took notice of me. Too bad she's not here. She was one tough cookie I think.

Boyle

But a lot of people are still a bit undecided about her, don't you think? You can't argue with the fact that she challenged men on their own turf, but ... I don't know. Her work wasn't about women ... not the way that your work and mine is anyway. And when she came down against arts grants for individual artists in the States ... don't you think that was kinda reactionary? I mean, Mapplethorpe? C'mon. How could she be dismissive of Mapplethorpe? She wrote that position paper in '89 I think. AIDS would have been top of mind for everyone, I guess. I wonder ... well, who knows? Just makes you wonder about her tolerance, her openness to all those 60s changes you were talking about. Maybe I'm not being fair.

Anyway, to get back to women and art, your stuff must have opened doors for all kinds of women. You know, legitimizing the way you did the value of all women's art, including all of what people once considered domestic craft, and somehow therefore less valid. What a crock. I think your art is, what would I call it? ... permission giving! That's it. It gives us permission to look at what it is to be female ... all of what that entails, pretty and not so pretty.

Act 3, Scene 5

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

Boyle (hugs Whiten. Aside from a few tourists, they are alone in the Canadian Pavilion, in the last month of the Venice Biennale.)

Wow! Great to see you Colette; I'm so glad you could come, and by the way I haven't had a chance to congratulate you in person. Amazing – the GG award. That is fantastic, and boy do you deserve it. I wish I'd brought Vag Halen with me; I'm sure they'd write something just for you and dance naked in celebration right here if we asked!

Whiten (laughing, hand to mouth)

No Shary. Thanks all the same, I've celebrated enough since the announcement. Oh ... how on earth can you still be here? You must be so exhausted. Or are you just back for a quick check on your babies before moving on to something else?

Boyle

Yeah, just here for a day or two. I fly out tomorrow, but I had to have a look to see how these pieces survived six months – well about five for now, but there's another month still to go. I am tired – maybe I have a bit too much on my plate right now, but I'm having fun with it all.

Whiten

I get it, really I do. It's hard to walk away from a big project like this that is still in a show. You wonder who has poked at it, and whether anything has been damaged.

Shary Boyle, The Cave Painter, photos by Raphael Goldchain

Boyle
Well, of course you would understand. Wish I had been there to see that show at Isaacs, the one with the cocoon-like plaster sculptures. I'd have loved to run my hands over those when no one was looking. They were so beautiful ... kinda spooky too. That was pretty early stuff for you, but people must have messed with the casts and the big wooden benches that were at the AGO around that time too.

Whiten
Maybe. I remember worrying about it. I guess when there was any small damage, the staff at the AGO  fixed it – no doubt with me anxiously watching every touch (laughs again). But listen, how are you enjoying Venice, especially now that you aren't working to deadline? And what do you think of this time-warp fiction we have been dropped into by this guy, Newkirk?

Boyle
Oh, Venice! What an amazing place. How could anyone not love Venice? It's actually been kinda fun bumping into people like Helen Fankenthaler and Agnes Martin and Artemisia Gentileschi, and you of course, even though you and I really do know each other. But this idea of meeting people from different eras ... well there's nothing really new about it. There was that Woody Allen movie a couple of years ago, Midnight in Paris, for example. Although the point of that film had more to do with longing for the past. I guess what Newkirk wants to do is simply connect the dots ... past to present.

Whiten
You're too young to remember this, but in the early eighties there was a TV series hosted by Patrick Watson – a CBC cronie – called Titans, and in it Watson "interviewed" great figures from the past. It was fairly cool at the time. Then there's that old saw: if you could invite anyone at all to dinner, from any period in history, who would you choose? It's fun to imagine what those great artists were really like. And I like this idea Newkirk has of putting the question: do young artists actually care about the past anymore? I just read an article by Sarah Milroy in the Globe and Mail, and it touched on this very issue. She was reviewing a survey show of 60 Canadian painters, called The Painting Project, curated by Julie Belisle at the Galerie de l'UQAM in Montreal. What I found interesting was that, just at the end of the article, Julie was quoted as saying that "all these painters ... really know their art history."  

Act 3, Scene 4

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

Fiorentino

Thank you for the compliment. This is one of my favourite works. 

Manet

And have you enjoyed the Biennale?

Fiorentino

Pah! Venice is a beautiful city full of great works of art; but this Biennale is disgraceful hucksterism. Perhaps nothing in this sideshow is for sale per se, but the promotion of so many ridiculous ... uh ... what are they? ... projects? ... carnival fun houses? Personally I cannot hazard a guess. And although even in my day Venice had earned it's reputation as a centre of bawdy entertainment and pleasures of the flesh, the things I have seen here are so extremely distasteful! Hmmmph, Biennale. More like Bacchanale! This is all beyond stupidity, it is insanity.

Manet (now stopped in his tracks, mouth agape)

I am shocked, Rosso. Based on what I know of your work, I thought of you as so forward thinking in the wake of such a titan as Michelangelo, well I suppose I simply assumed ...

Fiorentino

Ah, Michelangelo. Now there was a true artist. And yes, I like to think that I pushed the boundaries of my time; but I am a painter, and paintings should be both beautiful and moving, no? What is this thing, installation? It's ridiculous to think of walking inside a work of art – which these certainly are not.

Manet

But one walks inside great architecture, one enjoys the experience of being enveloped in an artist's vision.

Fiorentino

This is not architecture. These are playthings, party favours, circus acts. They have no place in the city of Titian, Veronese, Tintoretto. Pardon me, but I am angry about all of this. You are not?

Manet
No, of course not. In some ways, and with all humility, I see these young artists as my artistic progeny.

Fiorentino (incredulous now himself)
And you would admit to this travesty as having some connection to you?

Manet (animated, raising his own voice)
Well, yes! Some have referred to my work as having had a seminal influence on the evolution of great art in the modern era. I am considered to be a founding father of Modernism, something of which I am extremely proud – especially considering the resistance we faced in the early days, the Impressionist painters and I. The reactionaries and dunderheads held sway then too, for a while.

Fiorentino (with a hint of sarcasm)
Yes, I have seen images of the paintings you think of as great leaps forward. I stopped in a bookstore and leafed quickly through some of these glossy publications. Again, mostly full of rot. Your little landscapes are charming in a rather pedestrian way. The palette is appealing up to a point - those huge paintings of water lilies, for example. But I fail to see the point of water lilies as a subject for art. And that other fellow, Monet is it? What disgusting pornography that man produced, with the oddest flatness and incorrect perspective. Complete garbage.

Claude Monet, Water Lilies, 1915-1926

Manet (now completely enraged, feet planted apart, fists clenched)
Sir! I see that we have both been mistaken. I considered you to be a visionary. I should have realized after seeing the restored Sistine ceiling that you had nothing new to say with colour. Michelangelo's colours put you to shame, as does your own ignorance. It is I who am the purveyor of pornography, as you so eloquently put it. Monet, Claude Monet is another great painter you insult. Could you not even have ascertained correctly who I was before we met this morning? This is outrageous. Were it not for the stifling rules and regulations of the present, I would punish you for this insult on a field of honour, with pistols! You, sir, are a Neanderthal. You should crawl back to your cave. (stomps off in fury)

Edouard Manet, Luncheon on the Grass, 1863

Fiorentino
What in god's name was all that about?

Act 3, Scene 2

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

Manet (passes coffee and sandwich to Fiorentino)

Here's a spot, Rosso. I wish this place had tables, but standing is a small sacrifice for such a wonderful breakfast. They elbow their way in among the other standing customers and place their coffees and sandwiches on the long narrow marble countertop, and for a moment quietly enjoy breakfast.

www.smart-travelling.net

Fiorentino

This is a pleasure that is still novel to me, but I am completely intoxicated by this new beverage. I understand that Venice was the first place in Europe to import coffee and serve it in coffee bars like this.

www.smart-travelling.net

Manet

Yes, apparently so. The Italians love their coffee "fast" – hence, espresso. And espresso is new to me as well ... absolutely delicious. Let's walk to the grand canal when we finish here. Today I think I'll visit the Accademia, and perhaps the Guggenheim collection as well. I have seen enough of the Biennale for now. What are your plans?


Fiorentino
Well, if you don't mind my company, I'll come with you to the Accademia at least. I find the building itself a rather peaceful place, and there are works there by Titian and Bellini, Tintoretto, Veronese and others that I'd like to see.


Wonderful. I think that you and I have a good deal in common and I shall be glad to have the chance to discuss painting with you – especially after seeing your magnificent Deposition in Volterra.

Act 3, Scene 1

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

7:15 a.m. Venice is shaking off its slumber. Church bells have rung sporadically from the different sestieri of the city for about an hour, but unlike the predictable cacophony of so many bells routinely ringing together at 6 p.m., these too seem somehow disoriented and disorganized, waking from a good night's sleep. Along the grand canal, as elsewhere, waiters gently serve coffee and cornetti to yawning tourists, anxious to begin their day of sightseeing. 

http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187791-d1172029-Reviews-Cornetto_Notte_Anagnina-Rome_Lazio.html

The narrow streets have not yet shaken off their morning shadows, and the late September frostiness they generate. Sunlight glints off the rippling grand canal. The gondole are quiet, rocking themselves awake, nudging the colourful striped poles when the odd boat passes on its way to deliver fresh fruit and vegetables to the market stalls, or to pick up the trash from hotels along the smaller canals around the city. In the San Polo district, north and west of the Ponte di Rialto, the Pasticceria Rizzardini welcomes its regular crowd along with the many tourists who know they have found the source of some of Venice's best pastry. The shop is warm in contrast to the brisk morning air beyond its doors and foggy windows. Between noisy blasts from the busy espresso machine, we hear quiet chatter among those who wait for their turn to order. The aroma of good coffee is almost enough to settle nerves. Mouths water at the sight of such abundance: cornetti con creme, con cioccolato (bignè al cioccolato), tramezzini, fritters, meringue venezia, millefeuilles, cakes, cookies, panna fresco, strudel and more.

A pair of elegant looking men exchange polite conversation as they inch nearer to the pastry counter. One is clean shaven with a thatch of red hair, the other sports a beard.

Manet (to the woman behind the counter)
Due tramezzini e due caffe doppi, per piacere. (To his companion) Please, Rosso, this is my pleasure.

Henri Fantin-Latour, Portrait of Edouard Manet, 1867

Fiorentino
Ah, thank you Edouard; that's kind of you. I'm very much in need of coffee.

Rosso Fiorentino. Deposition. 1521. Oil on wood. 375 × 196 cm. 

Pinacoteca Comunale di Volterra, Italy

Act 2, Scene 9

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

Aitken

For me, the whole idea of what influences my work and what I don't want to influence it can sometimes get confusing. That's been a big part of the challenge both in my research and in my studio practice. The reading and research challenge my thinking; sometimes I hit upon something I know I can use in the studio. But making those decisions, unconsciously or not is what pushes my own work along, and sometimes trips it up too. It's all part of the fun, and even though I sometimes feel like this way of life sort of grabbed me by the throat – I mean I don't seem to have much choice, I have to make art – if it weren't also fun at times, there'd be no point in it for me.

Newkirk

Yeah, I think when it feels right, it's also fun. You are the gatekeeper of your own personal authenticity, aren't you. I mean that only you can decide exactly what feels like your own identity emerging in the work. And you can feel it right away too if something has crept in because of something you read, or that someone said, but that you sense just is not you. You stand back and look at what you've done, and your head starts ringing with a big "NO, this isn't right!" 

It's also interesting to me that culturally, we may have lost a common symbolic language that, at one time, not only added layers of meaning to art, but that was also nearly universally understood. So just what comprises these layers of meaning now, if not the old symbolism, and just how universally are they understood? I'm thinking about this in terms of what for me is the bigger question. Are all the links we have to other generations of artists simply fading into irrelevance?

Velazquez

I think you are referring to the Christian symbolism that was used for so many centuries both as a way to engage people with the art (Newkirk is nodding), and also to teach them. It's something I have noticed here at the Biennale. Not that I particularly miss the old vocabulary, but I have found it difficult to see a new one emerging. Is it gone, this idea of a common language do you think, or is it just changing? And as you suggest I think, David, are we seeing a trend toward more idiosyncratic art, art that is egocentric and disconnected from any tradition of thought?

Picasso

Some of the old language refuses to be discarded – ancient Greek mythology, for example, still finds its way into art today. In the past century western society has indeed become increasingly secular. Well, Diego, you would certainly have seen some change in this direction even when you were working at the Spanish Court. The old religious stuff is often of less and less interest both to artists and to their audiences, in my view at least. However, there are new things that show up more frequently in art, and these may be coalescing into something like a broadly understood set of symbols. I'm not sure. Most of the iconic images that come immediately to mind are violent in nature, unfortunately – handguns, for example, or the cloud from an atomic bomb exploding. Then again we have the anti-nuclear peace symbol of the sixties, and that makes frequent comebacks. Everyone takes away much the same inferences from these images, I believe, but whether we'll see a kind of codification of symbols, I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter. One difficulty I see is the rapid pace of change. How long, for example will the old symbol for a telephone receiver continue to resonate with anyone? ... please pardon the unintentional pun. (shrugs ...) Perhaps I am straying too far from the topic of our conversation. Too many questions, too few answers.

Velazquez
But symbolism is just one of the ways that artists add density and depth to their work. Maybe symbols aren't as important as they once were. Or am I simply out of touch with the artistic conventions of this new multicultural world? He stands, finishes his glass of wine.

I am enjoying this conversation immensely, but the city is winding down for the evening, and I must get some rest ... if I can sleep at all, that is. My mind has begun to wander. What a stimulating day it has been. And what a delicious dinner and a lovely evening we have had. My thanks to you all.

Picasso rises as well. Both men bid the others "buona notte," Picasso with the anachronistic but gallant gesture of bowing to kiss the women's hands – this is greeted with quiet laughter, and maybe some blushing, but no offence is taken.

Picasso
It has been a great pleasure to meet you all, and (to Holland) I do hope that we'll have time to discuss the ballet, and (to Aitken) to talk more about your work as well, young lady. My curiosity has been aroused. Thank you all. (Reaches out to shake hands with the standing Newkirk, smiles and nods, then turns to push a chair aside as he follows Velazquez).

As the two artists leave the restaurant, speaking quietly in Spanish now, we see them pause as Picasso lights a cigar. Velazquez prefers his snuff as before. They choose a direction and walk away, into shadows broken by the intermittent light of the restaurants and bars still serving so many visitors.

Act 2, Scene 8

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

Picasso, addressing this to Aitken

This is quite interesting to me. Jennifer, you say that your knowledge of the history of art and artists is fairly thorough after about 1850, but rather spotty before that (Aitken nods, puts her espresso demitasse back on its saucer). I think that I can accurately describe my work as a distillation of influences that would certainly include Ingres, and our friend Diego, as David pointed out, and then as far back as Filippo Brunelleschi and his seminal work in codifying the rules of perspective, against many of which I purposely rebelled, or that I discarded or interpreted. But also, I have an interest in the art of older and even ancient traditions – Greeks, Minoans, Japanese – and then there are the so-called primitives, the aboriginal artists of many continents. It's all fascinating and irresistible to me.

Aitken

Yeah, I see that. Probably my studies have kept me so busy, not only making art but researching and writing theses and defending them too, that so far I simply haven't had time or energy to expend on widening my interests much beyond the 20th century. I'm sure it'll happen, but it will take some time.

Jennifer Aitken,Composition1: 2012, foam and tape, approx 10’ x 5’ x 3’

Newkirk

I guess what I am asking is whether it's necessary for an artist to look so broadly and deeply into the past.

Picasso

Necessary? Is anything necessary? Perhaps looking broadly and deeply, as you put it, is not always and absolutely essential, but how can such interests not be enriching? And how can such enrichment fail to inform one's life, one's art? Seems to me that, as with all experience, this kind of knowledge affords the potential at least, for an artist to offer a more engaging experience to his, or her audience, no? And I believe that to be a good thing. I have seen though, that many people today seem to have difficulty spending time with a painting, or a sculpture, or even with these installations. A quick look, a smile that passes for pleasure, and they are off to the next thing in the gallery. The layers and references of the work, historical or literary or intellectual, often take more time to discover and to appreciate than many today are willing to spend with art.

Holland

But there will always be a general-interest audience for art, and a smaller more aware and engaged audience of true art lovers, don't you think? The show of Shary Boyle's porcelains impressed me at the Canadian Pavilion here at the Biennale. David and I plan to spend some time in Tuscany and Umbria. I have only seen reproductions of the Della Robbia altarpieces and I'm especially looking forward to seeing them in the flesh. To my eye, they are absolutely stunning - and I just can't imagine that they are not connected to Boyle's porcelains, that there was no influence there. Just her choice of medium – porcelain – is unusual. I would think that Della Robbia had to be an inspiration on some level. Jen, isn't she one young artist whose work reflects some deeper layers of history?

Shary Boyle

photo by Christopher Wahl

Aitken

Yeah, I think so. But I guess you'd have to talk to Shary about it. I haven't read anything that connects her with Della Robbia. She does have an interest in ancient mythology. And her work is sometimes described as ecofeminist. Her stuff often deals with very tough subject matter, including abuse. There must be porcelain artists she admires, I'm just not sure about Della Robbia.

The rejection of Pluto, 2008-9, Shary Boyle/Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Ontario